"I just think it would be fun to have a baby," I said after a glass of wine and two margaritas. I cradled an imaginary child in my arms in the space between me and the bar, showing off just how fun parenthood would be.
B raised his eyebrows and gave me a funny look.
"Well, not NOW," I shot back. "But don't you ever think that maybe it's time to have a baby and a house with a picket fence?"
B looked even more confused as to what possessed me to have serious baby talk at a bar. I asked if his biological clock had started ticking yet.
"Um, well, I've never really thought about it …" he stammered.
"I don't mean have a baby with YOU," I said forcefully, my drunkenness showing.
I sipped my margarita and repeated my original sentiment.
"I just think it would be fun to have a baby," I said.
"It's fun to go out drinking like this," he said.
He punctuated this thought with a sip of his Top Shelf on the Rocks before he continued.
"I mean, when I think of things that are fun, I think its fun to have a PARTY."